Troll
by Whyareallthegoodpennamesgone
Summary: "This is a public service announcement. My younger brother, Prospero Mohammadi, has been missing for eight hours."
1. Chapter 1

Benedict Mohammadi flicked the lights on one-handed. His other hand was holding his morning travel mug of coffee. Whistling happily, he made his way to the back of the Gravity Falls Gossiper, passing by his boss, Toby Determined. Toby was asleep at his desk, and Ben saw no reason to wake him up. Poor guy probably had nowhere else to go.  
>Pulling out a small purple bottle from the pocket of his leather jacket, Benedict set his coffee down on a cardboard box full of newspaper clippings. He carefully prized off the lid and added three drops to his coffee, each drop sizzling as it made contact with the surface. Satisfied, he popped the lid back on and took a swig.<br>Liquid Charisma, when distilled and made properly, has an unfortunate side effect of making everything taste like bananas. Benedict's coffee was no exception.  
>"Nasty," commented Ben, taking another sip.<p>

Booting up the radio equipment was the next part of his job. The stuff was trash, mostly, but it was simple enough to run with one person. Ever since he'd gotten hired (or cheated his way into employment with a mixture of Liquid Charisma mixed with the strongest luck potion he could brew) it had been his job to man the radio presence of the Gossiper.  
>The soundboard awoke with a wheeze and a hum like a bunch of bees. Grabbing the headset off a stand that had once been a coat hanger, Ben slipped it on, mumbling through vocal exercises.<br>"Red leather yellow leather, Unique New York, quite quaint quotes keep quiet it's quantum," recited Benedict, switching on the phone lines.  
>He waited for the ON AIR sign to flicker to life, eyes glued to the clock. It was six in the morning. The red light from the ON AIR sign filled the booth, and Ben pulled himself close to the microphone.<p>

"AH-WOOO! WAKE UP, GRAVITY FALLS! IT! IS CURRENTLY SIX! IN! THE! MORNING!"  
>Benedict wasn't going to lie to himself, he loved this part of the job, and the Liquid Charisma made the words roll off his tongue easily.<br>Outside, he heard a yelp and a crash. Good, Toby was awake.  
>"It's currently Tuesday, a gorgeous Tuesday of the summer. Gonna be a nice eighty-eight degrees today and sunny," said Benedict, reading off a printout of go-overs Toby had left out for him since last night.<br>"And now, without further ado, let's get to the music! Here's Mr. Blue Sky by Electric Light Orchestra! Remember, I'm taking requests all day, so if you wanna hear it, call me up!"  
>Ben turned a dial and pushed a button, and the cheery tones of ELO filled the booth. The ON AIR sign hissed out. Benedict began cueing up more music to play after Mr. Blue Sky ended, planning around advertising space.<br>Benedict took another sip of banana-flavoured coffee and grimaced.


	2. Chapter 2

Stanford Pines glowered at the radio.

"Stupid local channels. Never get anything good, and now I have to listen to that Benedict kid," he griped to Wendy, who was working the counter.

"C'mon, Mr. Pines. Ben's a good guy. I mean, like, yeah, he set the Shack on fire once, but I'm pretty sure he was sorry about it," said Wendy, shrugging.

"Darn right he's sorry! And he's still banned! That ban will outlive me!" said Stan, thumping himself on the chest.

"Whatever, man. You do you," said Wendy, ringing up a purchase of a bobblehead monster twelve-pack.

* * *

><p>Dipper and Mabel Pines had decided to hit up the library. Dipper wanted more books on the paranormal and Mabel had been gunning for the age-inappropriate romance novels since the start of the summer.<p>

"'Absolutely True Tales of What May Or May Not Be Unnatural Spookiness Volume One.' Well, there's six volumes, might as well give it a shot," said Dipper, adding it to the stack of books in his arms. He could use the books to cross-reference articles in the journal and add new information.

"Psst. Hey. Hey, you. Help me."

Dipper looked around. Was that for him? This was probably some stupid trap. His hands tightened on his stack of books. "Hello?" he called softly.

"Dude. Behind the bookshelf."

Dipper leaned to the left, looking behind the tall bookshelf. This gave him a clear look into the children's section of the library, and who was asking for his help. It was a kid about his own age, with glasses and an untidy mop of black hair.

"I'm stuck," he said. He had wedged himself into a frog-shaped rocking chair meant for toddlers, and his legs were tangled underneath it.

"Uh, want me to get a librarian?" said Dipper uncertainly.

The boy shook his head vehemently. "No! Don't do that! I'll get thrown out!"

Dipper glanced over his shoulder, in case a librarian had chosen to lurk just outside his peripherals. "Well, what do you need me for? I mean, you're really stuck, man."

"Gee, thanks. Look, grab onto the frog thing and I'm gonna wiggle out, okay?" said the boy.

Dipper didn't move. "Why would you even get in there?" he asked, eyeing the tiny, bug-eyed frog chair.

"You're seriously unhelpful. Put your books down and let me out. I can't feel my feet!"

"Alright, alright, chill."

Dipper dropped his books on a table and went to go help out this idiot kid.

"I don't think I've seen you around here before. Like, Gravity Falls-wise," said the boy, throwing his momentum forwards to land on his hands.

"My sister and I are here for the summer. We're staying with our Grunkle Stan at the Mystery Shack," said Dipper, putting his entire weight on the frog to keep it grounded.

"Aw, the Mystery Shack? No way! My brother's banned from there!" said the boy happily, trying to wriggle his left leg free.

"What? Seriously?"

"Yeah! I'm Prospero. Prospero Mohammadi."

The unnamed boy, now named Prospero Mohammadi, shot Dipper a smile. He had nearly gotten into a full handstand.

"Dipper Pines," said Dipper, letting go of the frog and electing to keep his hands up in case Prospero toppled over.

"Dude, just pull the frog off."

Dipper gingerly grabbed the tiny chair and gave it a yank. Prospero kicked his legs free and flipped upwards onto his feet with a thump.

"Dude, you like, saved my life! You're my hero, Dipper!" Prospero announced, and punched Dipper in the arm.

"Ow. Well, thanks, I guess?" he said, rubbing the freshly-punched spot and trying not to wince.

"Dunmentionit. Whatcha reading?" asked Prospero, wandering over to the table that held Dipper's books.

Dipper gaped, only for a moment. "Uh, just, um, some paranormal mystery stuff?" he tried, watching as Prospero flipped through his selection. He snorted in derision before saying, "I've got some real paranormal books back up at my house."

"Oh…kay?" Dipper said, looking around for his sister.

Prospero nodded. "Yeah. My sister's got a hold on them, but I'm pretty sure I could get you a few. You busy tomorrow?"

Dipper thought about it. "Not really, no."

"Well, you are now. I'll come pick you up, don't worry about it."

Dipper shrugged. Worry? Him? Why would he? I mean, this kid was obviously reckless and he didn't even know him at all, like what if he was a vampire or a serial killer or something worse?

Prospero grinned widely. "Cool. I have to find my sister so I can get to dance practice. Later!"


End file.
